by Darren Donohue
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"A much-needed tonic that was provocative and intriguing.” (Kilkenny People) | |||||
Synopsis |
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"Day comes on a little more; night holds out a little less, a little more, a little less, a little more, a little less..." says Hag, a withered old crone standing sentinel at a decaying old well. So, Darren Donohue’s fever dream of a play begins, itself careening a little more and a little less between seeming states of frenzy and contemplative consciousness. The action unfolds in a theatrical nowhere and no-when, shared by Hag’s mysterious well and a double bed stuffed with two grime-encrusted men: the tightly-wound Maud and the magnanimous Blic. Maud and Blic (the one sporting a dishevelled suit, the other donning a crusty nightcap) battle desperately against insomnia and the intrusive presence of Hag, arguing pointedly with her in biting, telegraphic exchanges. The established triad is disrupted by the sudden arrival of The Accused, an arrogant representative of some unnamed officialdom who proudly proclaims that he has arrived to be put on trial for an indeterminate crime. This new relational dynamic is established only to then be immediately overthrown by the arrival of new figures - a nameless Woman, who tends to a near-naked invalid, or the sudden lurching of a locked hamper, the living contents of which can only be guessed at. Rich in humour and sharp wit, and buoyed by Donohue’s sharp and rhythmic dialogue, this disparate collection of characters combines to generate the build-up of a pervasive, unnameable anxiety that lurks right on the edge of the unconscious. The combined result is an unforgettable evening of theatre that, like any discomfiting dreamtime vision, leaves indelible traces as you enter back into the real world. |
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Duration |
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40 mins approx | |||||
Characters
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